


Don't get too close, it's dark inside (It's where my demons hide)

by Charlie_Bb



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_Bb/pseuds/Charlie_Bb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has never told Stiles what he is to him, he doesn’t think he would understand; he doesn’t want to suffocate him with this probably unbearable truth, give him another burden to carry on his skinny shoulders. Derek tried to keep him safe and that was it.<br/>And now there’s no reason to tell him, either. Now Stiles has other things to think about, other problems to deal with, and there’s no way Derek is gonna drop all of this on him.<br/>So he takes off his jacket, lays it down on a chair and waits.</p><p>(Or: how Derek got Stiles back.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't get too close, it's dark inside (It's where my demons hide)

Few notes before we start: this fanfiction was written right after the episode "Letharia Vulpina", so it follows the main storyline for a while and doesn't really take into consideration the events of "Echo House" (I can't even-). 

I didn't add "Rape/Non-con" to the warnings, but I want to tell you I classify this as a " **Dub-con** ", so I'm warning you now. 

The title to this work is a line from the song "Demons", by Imagine Dragons.

A special Thank-You goes to [frerardestiel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/frerardestiel), a wonderful friend who beta'd this story for me and gave me her support. So, thank you darling, you're awesome and deserve rainbows and cookies ♥

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What was he doing up here?” Scott asks and Derek remains silent for a moment. What was Stiles doing all alone on that roof? He smells the air again and there’s something, something in the scent that Stiles left.

“I don’t know,” he replies and a weird feeling gets to him. It’s cold, and vicious, and unpleasant. “There was definitely some kind of struggle.”

Scott looks at him with his chocolate eyes wide open. “With who?” he asks. He can’t smell it in the air, he’s not paying enough attention. If he’d only focused, he could feel it. But he’s too worried to focus now, too upset, so Derek is the one to break it to him.

“Himself.”

Derek doesn’t need to look at Scott’s expression to feel how confused he is. He’s confused as well, something’s happening and he has no idea what that is. He doesn’t know what’s coming and, most important, doesn’t know what it has to do with Stiles.

 

*

 

Stiles’ jeep is cold and still in the parking lot. When Derek gets inside – to check if the keys are still there and all that stuff, of course – Stiles’ scent hits him like a punch in the face. It’s strong as it’s always been, sharp-tasting somehow; it tastes like Stiles, like his too-fast-to-follow speeches, like that distinctive hyperactivity that always made Derek recognize him instantly.

It also tastes like fear, cold sweat burning down the skin, and Derek feels the urge to _do something_. He gets out of the jeep instead and the cold air seems to help him gaining some sense back.

He hasn’t really met Stiles since he got back to Beacon Hills, but still. He’s always been there somehow, always by Derek’s side even when he was trying so hard to push him away, and now he’s gone, God knows if they’re ever getting him back.

It was perfectly fine by Derek staying away from him – _from every feeling his presence made him feel_ – as long as he was living his life serenely. Safely.

Because, Derek is man enough to admit it at least to himself, Stiles was gonna be safer without him. His presence was a threat to them all, he knows it well, but Stiles’ sake was everything Derek could think about. All the time.

He knew Scott would find a way to be the alpha he’s meant to be without him, he’s proved to be a better alpha than Derek could’ve ever dreamed of being himself. He knew Isaac was safe, standing by Scott’s side, letting him guide him, leading him through his supernatural life.

Stiles wasn’t.

He’s the most human between the humans, the most annoying yet caring kid, and Derek had never stopped thinking about it when he was away. Stiles would jump in horrible situations with arms wide open to embrace the danger, and Scott would notice too late to do something. Stiles threw his teenage, hyperactive self into danger for Derek most of the times, and he couldn’t let it happen again. He thought that staying away from him was the solution to that problem. He was obviously wrong.

And now Stiles is probably in a danger Derek cannot save him from, his sense of smell won’t help him out this time, even if he knows Stiles’ scent better than anyone else’s.

Derek feels a burning rage building inside his chest so he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It’s gonna be ok, they’re gonna find him, he’s gonna be fine.

 

Derek focuses on getting the jeep working again while Aiden’s stare is fixed on him. When he hears the words coming out of his mouth, he feels like he wants to hit him hard.

What is he thinking? Does he really think that Stiles could be- no, it’s _ridiculous_.

“You think Stiles – skinny, defenceless Stiles ,“ Derek tells him with a smirk on his face to hide the feel he’s feeling to hurt him badly for even _thinking_ something like that, “-is the Nogitsune, a powerful dark spirit?”

Aiden’s stare is serious and he doesn’t look away, not the least bit scared, when he says “I’m not the only one thinking it, I’m just the only one saying it.”

“This thing wants to possess someone and it choses Stiles?” Derek asks him then, and pushes away that cold feeling that keeps on growing inside of him. “Why not take someone bigger, stronger, someone with a little more…” _it can’t be, it really can’t, it’s-_ “Power.”

The tiles he had chosen to ignore get back in place and he can see it now, everything he decided not to see because it was scary, because it was too horrible to be true, and he wanted so badly for Stiles to live a normal life.

Truth is, that was never something Derek could just make up for him, not matter how badly he wanted to. Stiles’ life was never his to shape, even if it became quite clear that it was Derek’s to protect.

 

*

 

 _They found him. They’re taking him to the hospital now_.

 

Derek reads Scott’s text and sighs in relief.

So they’ve finally found Stiles.

He wants to ask a million questions – _is he alright? Where did they find him? When? Does he know why he went there?_ – but puts the phone back on the passenger seat again and shuts the engine down.

After jumpstarting Stiles’ jeep, Derek did the only thing he could think of: look for Stiles everywhere, no matter how long it would take him.

He felt so powerless, so _useless_. He couldn’t bear the thought of Stiles being God knows where, freezing.

But now it’s alright, Stiles is alright, they found him, he’s gonna be fine.

Derek looks up at the night sky, that black blanket pointed with shiny little lights, and holds the steer wheel so tight it hurts his hands. The frustration he’s been feeling in the last few hours is still there, hidden inside his body, wrapping his mind in a tight grip, and now he can finally let go.

He tries to breathe away the tension, relax the nerves and the contracted muscles, but it’s not as easy as he thought it’d be.

 _Stiles is okay_ , he keeps on telling himself, whispering in the darkness of the vehicle. _He’s alright, he’s safe now_.

But the wolf inside of him scratches with his claws, howling loudly, grasping the ground of his insides in nervous moves.

Derek lets go of the wheel and gets out of the car. He takes few deep breaths, closes his eyes, tries to ignore the wolf’s laments but he can’t. So he growls, loud in the quiet of the night, and his eyes flash electric blue while his face features change into a more animal ones. He howls, and growls, and screams all the pain he has kept inside, his body aching and shivering.

 

*

 

“What is that? Is that a baseball bat?”

Everything he needs is a quick look to recognize it. He’s seen it so many times – in Stiles’ jeep, at every lacrosse match he’s attended, unseen – not to notice it immediately. And it smells like Stiles as well, Derek would pick that smell in the biggest city without any problem.

He’s never told Stiles how easy it’s always been for him to pick his scent between others. No, that sounds creepy even to his ears.

He’s never told him how hard he tried to ignore it, to wash it away from his body even after the two of them casually met; he’s never told him how _safe_ his scent smells, how known, and how much he got used to it.

“It’s Stiles’s bat,” Derek tells Kira and takes the object in his hands. It’s cold to the touch, and apparently irremovable from the iron it’s sticking to. He grabs it with both hands and pulls harder, and it takes him more effort than he could imagine. “It’s magnetized. Kira, I’m gonna need you to tell me everything you know about foxfire.”

Kira starts telling him everything she found out about the Kitsune and foxfire, but it’s not enough. She did her researches, and most of the things she came up with come from the internet, which is not exactly the source Derek needs right now. He needs something that goes beyond the crap one can easily find online, something buried deep in myths and legends, something that will actually help him understand the options he might have.

Derek can’t help but keep on asking questions Kira doesn’t know how to  answer to, he pushes a bit too hard and she looks upset. She’s telling him the truth, everything she knows; it’s not her fault if that’s not enough.

He gives her a reassuring smile and thanks her for everything she’s told him.

“There’s… there’s something more,” she adds in a low voice when Derek’s already heading outside the building. He stops, stays still with his heart increasing its beats, and when he turns her expression seems to confirm what his wolf senses are suggesting. There’s something more, and it’s no good news.

“What is it?” Derek asks slowly and Kira looks away, frowning.

“The bat…” she whispers. “It got magnetized.”

“That’s because of the foxfire,” he tells her, but she knows that already. “Kira, what is it? What is it that you’re not telling me?”

She sighs and looks so innocent, so young.

Derek takes a deep breath, hoping it’ll help the wolf inside calm down, and closes his eyes. Stiles’ scent is all around, his fear, his rush to do something before it’s too late. He tried to save her, of course, good old Stiles; he will never stop caring, never, and Derek is so scared that one day his being so concerned will take him to his grave. 

Derek’s phone buzzes in his jeans pocket but he keeps his eyes shut for a moment. And he sees the light. The Kitsune’s tails, the energy they create, the _fire_. And then a darkness spreading, floating around, fast and anxious, longing for power to stick to. The darkness attacks Kira but her light seems to shield her, forming a barrier all around her fragile body.

“I think the foxfire separated the Nogitsune from its host,” she says, her voice so low and scared. “I think-“

“It made it jump into someone else,” Derek finishes for her, and it makes sense.

According to what she told him, Kitsunes use foxfire as a weapon, to disorient others and send them in whichever direction they want to, but there could be more to it. They might use it as protection as far as they know, and they know almost nothing about this spirit.

“You unconsciously used the foxfire to protect yourself and sent the Nogitsune away from Barrel’s body in the process.” Derek’s heart starts pounding in his chest, almost a physical pain, and breathing becomes harder and harder every second more.

Aidan was right, then.

They were all right in thinking that there was something wrong with Stiles, that the things he did and didn’t remember were done by someone else. Something else.

But that makes no sense. Kira’s foxfire shielded her from the dark spirit, and that’s a fact, but someone else was in the room, someone more powerful. Scott was there, a werewolf, a _true alpha_ , why would the Nogitsune ignore that? Why not choose him instead?

Stiles is human, and as powerful as any seventeen year old can be. He’s no supernatural thing, just a kid that got himself involved in absurd situations.

Derek’s phone buzzes again and again, insistent, and when he takes a look at the screen he finds a couple of messages from Scott waiting for him to read them.

 

_Stiles is at  the hospital. They’re gonna run some tests._

 

Tests? Doctors had already checked on Stiles to make sure he was alright after almost freezing to death, but tests? Now?

 

 _What’s wrong with him?_ , Derek quickly types and tilts his head at Kira, silently intimating her to follow him. He gets to the car, almost runs towards it, and turns the key into the ignition.

 

 _I’ll tell you when you get here_.

 

Scott’s reply sucks the air from all around him. Why can’t he tell over the phone? What could possibly be so bad for him to tell Derek in person?

 

*

 

When he gets to the parking lot, Derek agrees to let Kira out of this. She’ll wait outside and he will get back to her as soon as he tells Scott what he thinks has happened in that basement.

So he walks through the glass door and heads to the department Scott has told him they’re keeping Stiles in.

The hospital is quiet, only few doctors walking around, and silence seems to embrace it as a warm, suffocating blanket. It smells like sickness to Derek’s werewolf senses, and like medications, and blood, and death.

He spots Scott sitting on a chair in another quiet, aseptic waiting room. He looks tired, and scared. Anxiety pours out of his young body and invades the room with its acid scent.

“What’s going on?” Derek asks and Scott looks up to him. He didn’t hear him coming, lost in his thoughts as he was.

“My dad found Stiles in the woods,” he tells in a tired voice. “It was a hunch and thank God he followed it. Stiles was still asleep when my parents found him, he’s been asleep the whole time. Few more minutes and he was gonna freeze to death.”

Derek sighs and sits right in front of Scott, waiting for everything else he still has to tell.

“They took him to the hospital, he’s alright now,” he continues rubbing his eyes with his shaking hands. “My mom… she visited Stiles few days ago. He was anxious and couldn’t sleep, that’s been happening a lot lately. So she wrote down his symptoms and gave him something to help him rest. Today she told me she’d noticed something was wrong, and she’d checked on Stiles’ mom records.”

Stiles’ mother died years ago, that’s all Derek knows. Apparently it was some kind of accident. Stiles had to grow up without her, almost like Derek did, and his dad had to carry on alone.

He knows Stiles still misses his mom, he can see it in his sad eyes, read it in the shade of bitterness in his scent. Loss is too strong, too powerful to be washed away.

“Was she-“

“Sick,” Scott nods, eyes to the floor to keep his tears from Derek. He sighs and takes a moment before turning back to him, a deep sadness painted all over his face. “She suffered from insomnia, and anxiety, and panic attacks. Hallucinations, even.”

It takes Derek a moment to take it in. Mrs Stilinski’s symptoms were the same as Stiles’. For a second he stops torturing his hands and lets them fall back in his lap, motionless. He looks up at Scott, a silent question on his lips, and prays whoever is up there for it not to be true. It can’t be happening, it’s _impossible_. Teenagers don’t suffer from dementia for God’ sake, there’s no way it-

“It’s called frontotemporal dementia.” Scott looks away for a moment and back at Derek again, he seems to be waiting for some reaction from him. It’s like he’s waiting for his words to sink in, to shape into something Derek will understand. “It kinda fries your brain, it just stops working properly. It’s the only dementia that can affect young people.”

Derek feels the world crumbling beneath his feet. This can’t be real, Stiles cannot be-

He tried to protect him from all the supernatural shit they’ve been through, he’s been trying to protect him from _himself_ for what mattered, because Derek thought it wasn’t safe for Stiles to be around him since death seems to follow everywhere he goes.

Derek has been rude to him, an asshole of some sorts, just to kick him as far away as possible and now a stupid sickness will try to take Stiles away from him. This is something Derek can’t protect him from, something he doesn’t know how to defeat.

“Can they cure it?” he asks quietly, but knows the answer already and he’s not surprised when Scott shakes his head. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised.

“Is it-“

“We need to wait for the test results to be sure,” Scott says. “But they think it’s very likely he- it’s genetic, runs in the DNA, so they say.”

“Okay.”

It’s not okay, it’s so far from being okay. There’s nothing Derek can do _now_ but wait, and waiting is what hurts him the most. He wants to know. He _needs_ to know now, needs to know in order to find something that can help Stiles.

Derek knows Scott is thinking about it too, he can see it in his eyes. He’s already thinking of the bite, wondering if it could cure Stiles as it did with Erica, if Stiles’ body would reject it or not.

Derek quickly texts Kira, telling her things got complicated and to find another ride home. He knows she’ll understand, and now Stiles is all that matters. Somehow, he’s always been.

He was the one Derek thought of the most, when he was taking Cora to South America. His sake was what drove his actions all the time and somehow he knew, since the very first moment he saw him, that he was not gonna leave him alone.

They say a mate is a complicated matter, but it isn’t really. Or at least, Derek found it easy. He saw Stiles and he just knew, end of the story. Dealing with it was a different thing.

Derek has never told Stiles what he is to him, he doesn’t think he would understand; he doesn’t want to suffocate him with this probably unbearable truth, give him another burden to carry on his skinny shoulders. Derek tried to keep him safe and that was it.

And now there’s no reason to tell him, either. Now Stiles has other things to think about, other problems to deal with, and there’s no way Derek is gonna drop all of this on him.

So he takes off his jacket, lays it down on a chair and waits.

He knows he should talk to Scott, try to distract his young mind from his best friend, but he can. The words get stuck in his throat when he tries to talk, his thoughts are filled with _StilesStilesStiles_ , with the teenager’s eyes. What if-

No, it’s better not to think about it. Stiles is going to be fine, he has to.

So Derek tries to turn off his mind for a little while, and tell Scott about how he recovered his mother’s claws, how he used them to talk to her one last time.

He needs her, now more than ever. He needs her guidance, her advice, the only person who has and will ever understand him. While Derek’s telling Scott about the memory of Talia, he can’t help but think that she would’ve loved Stiles, brilliant, hyperactive Stiles. She would’ve pushed Derek towards him, she would’ve helped him understand the mating matter.

“She told me something that changed my perspective on a lot of things,” Derek says, looking Scott in the eyes. Talia has so much to teach him, even after her death. “She said my family didn’t just live in Beacon Hills, they protected it. This town needs someone to protect it.”

 _Stiles needs someone to protect him_.

“Someone like you.”

And then it happens, Derek handles everything into Scott’s hands because that’s the only thing he can do to help his town. That’s what his mother would’ve wanted, considering the circumstances.

Scott is the only one who can protect Beacon Hills, a true alpha, and it’s only fair for him to fulfil his role completely.

Derek tried so hard to be the alpha Talia would’ve wanted him to be, but he failed. He’s not good enough, even if he tries. And it would be reckless of him to deny it.

“He’s trying to protect us,” Scott says, abruptly changing topic, his eyes wide open in realization. “Stiles was protecting us.”

That is something Stiles would do, Derek thinks, protecting them all from a bigger threat even if his own life was at stake. Protecting them from the dark spirit inside of him, not caring about what the Nogitsune could do to him.

“From himself,” Derek adds, his voice low and pensive.

Stiles would gladly risk his own life to save his friends’ –  as he did in the past, he’s done it again. He’s tried to warn them somehow and Derek hates himself for not being able to pick up the leads. Oh, Stiles has been so clever, so brave. And so stupid.

Derek hopes that is not too late.

 

*

 

Derek doesn’t try to visit Isaac at the hospital. No matter how badly he wants to, he knows the doctors would never allow him to see him. He’s not family, after all.

Scott went to see him, thanks to his mother. He tried to ease his pain a bit, he said, but the pain is so big and deep he couldn’t do much. Isaac’s wounds are not healing, and all they can do is sit tight and hope for science to do its magic.

There was something else Scott had to tell him, when he came over to the loft earlier that day. His young face was pale and painted with apprehension, and Derek didn’t need to ask. Somehow, he knew that would’ve happened.

Scott told him that Stiles left. He texted the Sheriff, telling him not to worry, telling him he would be back soon.

When Derek thinks about it, hours after Scott left the loft, it just makes sense.

Stiles is a clever kid, he knows better than staying and putting his friends and family’s lives in danger. Also, he needs some time on his own, and Derek can understand that. He doesn’t like it, but he understands.

Stiles has been missing for a day now, and Derek feels like there’s nothing he can do.

He wants to go out and look for him everywhere, chase him to the end of the world and beyond, but is it truly the best thing to do? Stiles needs to think, to be alone, to process all the shit that’s happened to him in the last few weeks.

But what if the Nogitsune takes over? Is Stiles okay now, or is he just hidden somewhere deep inside his own mind, screaming for help?

Derek gets up from the sofa and reaches the big windows, staring at the town outside.

He knows Stiles is alive, he can feel it.

And he needs to know that he’s alright as well.

The loft is empty and silent around him, the lights are off and the streetlights cast dancing shadows on the walls. The silence is so loud Derek can barely stand it, his own thoughts running so fast in his head, torturing him more than the wolf inside.

He can’t just sit tight and wait, he just can’t. He needs to see Stiles, talk to him, tell him it’s gonna be alright. They’re gonna find a solution, Deaton already knows about the shit they’re into, he will help them.

And Derek is no use sitting on his hands in a solitary loft, a beast behind bars. The wolf asks for him to do something, to _try_ something, and he can’t ignore it. It wants Stiles’ scent back, it wants _Stiles_ back, and Derek couldn’t agree more.

He takes his car keys, a jacket and leaves into the cold night.

 

*

 

As the hours go by Derek feels more and more frustrated.

He knows Scott, and the Sheriff, and everyone else is worried about Stiles, and he also know they’re not respecting his desire not be looked for. They can’t help it, and even though Stiles wants to be alone right now Derek can’t blame them. Because it would mean he should blame himself as well.

He’s been turning Beacon Hills upside down, but he couldn’t find any trace of Stiles, anywhere.

Has he left town? Improbable. Where would he go anyway?

Derek closes his eyes and rubs them with his hands, trying to wipe away the tiredness as a new dawn blesses Beacon Hills with its strawberry-gold sunrays.

There’s nowhere else he could look, no other hidden places that he knows of, and his hopes of finding Stiles soon started to fade several couples of coffee and awoken hours ago.

There’s only one thing left to do now, and even if Derek thinks it’s a horrible idea he’s desperate enough to give it a try.

 

*

 

When agent McCall and the local police come to arrest Chris Argent, they take Derek away as well.

Derek has no idea what that is all about – yakuza? Someone turned dead? – and to be honest he doesn’t really give a shit, not when Stiles is somewhere out there, alone and probably scared.

It must be terrifying for him, having _something_ inside, something that wants to hurt everyone he loves, and not being able to kick it away.

Is Stiles still in charge? Derek doesn’t know, but he can hope so.

He can hope Stiles is strong enough to fight, to try and get rid of the Nogitsune, but deep down he knows that’s not the case.

Stiles is sick, Stiles knows that there’s no cure to the dementia that’s affecting him. He must be tired, weak, annihilated by the horrible series of events of the last few weeks.

Derek hasn’t been sleeping for a couple of days now, he feels like all of his supernatural strength is slowly abandoning him. His eyes are tired, circled with dark shadows, and his body is on the edge.

The police station is crowded with officers going around, papers in their hands, phones ringing, sirens wailing outside. Something is going on in that place, and Derek knows it’s not only about him and Chris being accused of murder. There’s something else, a bitter scent intoxicating the air, a cold fear that embraces everything, everyone.

Chris Argent is talking about calling his lawyer to take them out of the situation someone framed them in, but Derek doesn’t really listen. His hearing is focused on the agitated words a young officer talks into a phone, something about a bomb, and a school bus.

Scott is at school, the twins are with him, and Derek knows they would be able to deal with everything that’s happening if necessary. He trusts Scott with his own life, he knows he will find a way.

If he only could text him. Derek tugs the handcuffs holding him to the bench, again and again, and thinks he could easily get free if he tried for real. But Chris stops him from doing what he thinks is a reckless action, and Derek leaves it for now.

They will charge him for murder, _again_. Two years back he tried so hard to save himself, to prove he was innocent even though no one seemed to believe him, and Stiles, together with Scott, tried to help him as much as he could – after having him arrested, of course, because sometimes Stiles rushes to conclusions and doesn’t think straight after all, no matter how clever he is.

Today he doesn’t care what the police wants to do with him, as long  as they do it after he can find Stiles.

His name is spinning around in his mind in a loop; Derek can’t stop it, and that one word seems to give him the strength to go on, no matter how tired he is, all the hours he’s spent looking for someone that doesn’t want to be found.

And then, the explosion.

Derek follows his instinct and roughly pushes Chris down, shielding him with his own body.

The police station is filled with smoke and screams, there are officers down and Derek smells blood everywhere. The Sheriff’s office is a chaos of black smoke and rubble, burnt folders everywhere.

Derek doesn’t need to think too much about who – _or what_ – is behind all this, and when he stands up, the broken bench freeing him from the handcuffs, he looks at Chris just to find he’s alright.

“You saved my life,” Chris tells him in an half incredulous, half thankful voice and Derek would really, really like to tell him to fuck off. Does he really think Derek is some kind of monster? He’s a werewolf, he’s a Hale, that doesn’t classify him as a monster. Killing someone would, but then again, Derek has never killed anyone, has he? Apart from Peter, but he deserved it. And he came back to life, so that one doesn’t really count.

His vision blurs, the room seems to spin around him, and the last thing he can think of before losing grip on reality is Stiles’ smile, the same sarcastic smile Derek hasn’t seen in a long, long time and misses so much.

 

 

*

 

_He’s in a basement, again. The same basement he’s spent a night in, freezing to death._

_That…_ thing _is right in front of him, the Nogitsune who looks just like him, who stole his face and his voice. Stiles breathes heavily and tries to get up from the cold corner he’s crouched into, but his legs hurt and are not able to bear his weight so he falls back again, drained of every energy._

_“They will find a way,” he mutters to his shadow self. “They will kill you.”_

_The Nogitsune gives him a soft smile, his head tilted on a side, dark circles around his eyes._

_“We’re keeping you alive, Stiles.”_

_“It doesn’t matter, they-“_

_“Oh, it does,” the Nogitsune smiles and steps forward, bending in front of him to look him in the eyes. “They love you, Stiles. They will not let you die, so young, so bright.”_

_Stiles tilts back to the wall, trying to put some distance between him and the thing, but the Nogitsune doesn’t seem to care and lifts a hand towards him instead, gently caressing his face._

_“We can save you, Stiles,” it says with Stiles’ voice. “We will save you. You need us, more than we need you.”_

_Stiles would very much like to spit in its face – in his own face, creepiness never ends in Beacon Hills – but the Nogitsune holds his face tight now, forcing him to look at it._

_“I don’t want to be saved.”_

_Stiles closes his eyes and feels the cold of his own fingers on his face. The Nogitsune is probably right, it could save him, but what’s the point? If he lets it do it, then it’ll mean the thing will stay inside of him, and Stiles would rather die than let it hurts his friends._

_“Everyone wants to be saved, Stiles. Even you. And your friends will do anything to keep you alive.”_

_The Nogitsune smiles again, it does that more often now. Stiles doesn’t like that smile, it’s not true. It’s not his smile, just a copycat, and the copycat will never be as warm and bright as the original._

_“Then why are you hurting them?” Stiles asks in a low, angry voice. “Why are you trying to kill them all?”_

_“They don’t deserve to live.”_

_“And I do?”_

_Shadow Stiles gets back on his feet. He’s not smiling anymore._

_“You do,” he says, turning his back on Stiles. “You don’t deserve to die.”_

_Stiles watches him leave the basement, closing the door shut behind him. Darkness wraps the place in a cold grasp, just like the first time he’s been there. It’s less cold though, thank God, but still pretty scary._

_Stiles knows he’s not really there, like the first time. He didn’t know back then, he was deep asleep all the time, but he knows better now. He feels weak, so weak it is difficult to move, and the Nogitsune on the other hand looks perfectly fine, bursting with energy. Stiles knows the thing is in charge of his body right now, and doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to get back._

_He hears voices, sometimes. Like Scott’s voice, or the coach’s. He has no idea what they’re saying, they feel distant and echoed like in a dream he cannot wake up from nor live completely._

_Stiles hears some noise behind the basement door, then starts to scream._

 

*

 

“Deaton! He’s coming to.”

When Derek tries to open his eyes they feel heavy. He blinks a couple of times, adjusting to the light that hurts him, and he recognizes the vet office. Everything is blurry and out of focus, and it takes him a few minutes before he can put everything back together.

His mouth is dry, his throat sore, and when he tries to speak it hurts a bit.

Scott is right next to him, a hand gently placed on Derek’s shoulder, his eyes dark with concern. Footsteps behind them announce someone else is in the room, and Derek correctly assumes that someone is Deaton.

The veterinarian hands him out a glass of water that Derek gladly accepts, then rounds him to check on his back.

Derek drinks slowly, quietly, while memories keep on coming back to him. He passed out right after the bomb exploded in the Sheriff’s office, right after saving Chris Argents’ life. Derek remembers the screams, the dense black smoke, officers down everywhere; he remembers the smell of blood, the more bitter one of panic.

“Stiles,” he croaks looking up at Scott, leaving the question incomplete but knowing he will understand.

Scott’s wearing a grave expression, his eyes running away from  him, and when Derek turns to Deaton he finds the same one on the vet. Something has happened, something has happened to Stiles and Derek tries to get up from the metal table too soon and too fast.

“Whoa. Easy, tiger,” Deaton says keeping him still with both hands, and Derek roughly shakes him off. How long has he been out? What’s happened at the police station? What’s happened to Stiles?

“Where is he?”

“Derek, you need to-“

“Where is he?” Derek asks again in a low, husky voice. His eyes blaze electric blue and a low, threatening growl roars in his chest. “Where.”

“Derek, calm down,” Scott intimates him, his eyes now glowing red. Derek turns to him still growling, looking him directly  in the eyes, showing him he doesn’t give a fuck if he’s the alpha. Derek is not part of his pack, Scott doesn’t get to bark orders at him.

Scott growls back but his eyes turn human again and his voice shows only concerns when he says “He’s here.”

“I need to see him.” Derek stands up and finds his shirt laying on a chair; he wears it quickly, all of his body aching from the movements, and stumbles back to Deaton with a unwavering look on his face.

“Take me to him. Now.”

Deaton sighs and nods, wearily.

“There’s something you need to know first,” he says as he leads the way out of the room and down a small corridor, then he stops in front of a heavy metal door, a key in his hands.

Derek lets Deaton filling him in and doesn’t say a word, doesn’t interrupt him, only nods vaguely from time to time. He cannot believe Stiles would be able to cause so much pain and trouble, but then again that was not Stiles.

Deaton has travelled all the way to Japan, to the place the Nogitsune has been defeated, just to find answers. And he did find them, together with a certain plant that would serve as poison to the dark spirit.

“Is he alright?” Derek asks, gazing at the door behind which Stiles is supposed to be resting. But is he? “How can we be sure the venom worked?”

“We can’t,” Deaton reply quickly. “Not until he wakes up.”

“Derek.” Scott looks at him with emotions Derek is not able to read now, but nods anyway and Scott does the same. “Be careful, we still don’t know-“

“I will.”

Deaton opens the door for Derek and he and Scott watch him sneak inside. They close the door behind him and look through the small glass window as Derek approaches Stiles’ unconscious body. He stands there for a few seconds, as if he didn’t know exactly what to do; then Derek bends on his knees, his head tilted aside as his eyes are fixed on Stiles, and he sits down right in front of him, waiting.

“I’ve never imagined it would’ve been so tough for him,” Scott sighs, turning his back on the door and sliding down until he sits on the cold floor. Deaton raises an eyebrow at him and sits right beside him.

“Well,” he says in his usual calm, comforting tone. “A Nogitsune-“

“No.” Scott shakes his head and stare at the blank walls. “No, I mean Derek. I didn’t know that Stiles… well, I guess it’s kinda fair after all.”

Deaton turns to him and stare at him, so young and so ready to bear too much already. “What do you mean, Scott?” he asks, but he thinks he knows where this is going. The vet doesn’t know why it took Scott this long, though.

“Stiles and Derek,” the alpha mutters in a low voice, tilting his head back to the wall behind him. “I had no idea Stiles was Derek’s mate, but it seems just right, no? I mean, all the time they’ve spent hating each other, jumping at each other’s throat. Stiles is always been stubborn, but he’s never had trust issues, except with Derek. They fought for so long, couldn’t seem to stand each other’s sight, but Stiles was ready to believe in Derek when no one else was. And Derek… he never showed, but he cares about Stiles and believes in him even more than I do.”

Scott sighs again, his chest heavy with regret and self-pity. He should’ve know better, he should’ve known something was wrong with Stiles and he just didn’t notice, too focused on himself and the Kitsune as he was. He knew Stiles wasn’t alright, he’s seen the dark circles around his eyes, and what did he do? Nothing, he _ignored_ it. And now, Stiles is Derek’s mate, and Scott doesn’t know what to think.

It was obvious that if Derek deserved a mate, that mate had to be Stiles. They’re opposite, so different; Derek is silent, and diffident, and angry when Stiles is loud, and trusty, and caring, and happy.

Truth is, Derek needs someone like Stiles in his life, someone that can put to his stupid brain that, hey!, life is still worth living in spite of all the bad things. And Stiles, well. Stiles needs an anchor to keep him grounded when the troubles lift him up far far away, when everything is just _too much_ and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Don’t blame yourself for worrying about your friend.” Deaton smiles and pats Scott on his shoulder. That kid is the most caring, sensitive and thoughtful seventeen year-old boy he’s ever met, yet Scott keeps on underestimating himself for no reason, and sometimes Deaton just wants to shake him up and show him the truth.

“No, I blame myself for not worrying enough,” Scott whispers, eyes to his shoes and a bitter smile on his face. He gets up, rubbing his face with his hands. “Well, I think it’s time to call the Sheriff, he will leave every stupid paperwork as soon as we tell him that Stiles is awake.”

 

*

 

Derek can’t help but think how fragile Stiles looks.

His body is no more the one of a teenager, his shoulders are larger, his torso more muscled than Derek remembered; yet Stiles is skinny, and defenceless, and Derek would die to protect all of what Stiles is, all the beautiful smiles and convulsive moves, his brilliant ideas and stupid, bad suggestions. Derek would like to give Stiles everything, anything he’s ever wanted, anything he ever will.

But Stiles doesn’t know what Derek doesn’t tell, and Derek is no sure anymore that things had been working just fine that way. Maybe, if he’d only told him… maybe Stiles wouldn’t be in this situation now, maybe he would be okay and none of this would’ve happened.

Derek can’t stop blaming himself for everything Stiles is going through. Yeah, maybe he couldn’t have stopped the Nogitsune from jumping into Stiles’ body, but if only he’d been there from the beginning maybe Stiles wouldn’t have gone to that basement in the first place.

“D- Derek? Where am I?”

Derek rubs his eyes quickly and stares at Stiles’ face, so pale, so worn out.

“Shush, it’s okay,” he says sitting in a more comfortable position and taking Stiles’ face in his hands. “It’s okay, you’re at Deaton’s clinic.”

“What’s happened?” Stiles asks in an almost audible whisper. “Derek, I don’t… I don’t…”

Stiles weakly grabs Derek’s shirt and looks at him with fears in his big, hazel eyes. He looks weak and torn, his hands are shaking, and Derek takes Stiles’ hands in his own just to stop the tremors.

“It’s okay, Stiles,” he whispers, so close to him he can feel Stiles’ breathe. “Look at me. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Stiles faintly nods but doesn’t seem to believe Derek’s words. He looks so scared, so innocent.

“The Nogitsune-“

“Deaton poisoned it,” Derek explains with the shadow of a smile on his lips. Stiles widens his eyes, incredulous.

“He did? How?”

Derek keeps on caressing Stiles’ hands, warming them up with his own body heat, and the wolf inside of him growls.

“He found some plant, this vulpina something,” Derek says and Stiles leans into his touch, his eyes focused on him like never before. It feels like they can read right into him, like they can read his soul so easily. Derek silently shivers and moves closer to Stiles, so close he can almost touch his body, the closest they’ve never been. Well, except for the pool, but that doesn’t really count, does it? Derek was paralyzed, and Stiles was only keeping his head out of the water, keeping him from drowning. It doesn’t matter if Derek grew a boner back then, nor that Stiles grew one as well, it was only the water, nothing more than that.

“Deaton injected you – well, _it_ , technically.”

“I don’t remember it,” Stiles mutters looking away from him, and Derek feels so empty now. “I don’t remember anything. It was so dark, so cold. It was like… it was like a nightmare, and I screamed  and screamed, and that _thing_ laughed. Derek, my father-“

“He’s okay,” Derek says promptly and feels a bit warmer when Stiles leans to him again, so close they touch. “He knows you’re here, I don’t think he knows you’re awake  yet.”

“I need-“

“We’ll call him,” Derek murmurs, putting a finger on Stiles’ lips. “It’s gonna be alright, Stiles. You’re gonna be alright, I _promise_.”

Stiles sighs and puts his arms around Derek’s neck, holding tight onto him. Derek can feel his tears, burning down his own skin, and holds him back with a small gasp. Stiles immediately pulls back, his hands on Derek’s shoulders, and looks right through him again, making him feel exposed as he’s never felt before.

“What? What happened to you?”

Derek gives him a reassuring smile and shakes his head. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Stiles retorts with a wince before touching Derek’s back again, his hands gentle but firm. Derek growls at the touch and Stiles slowly reaches the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal the white bandages stained with blood wrapping up Derek’s torso. His eyes widen in bewilderment and shine with exasperation tears.

“I did this to you.”

Stiles’ voice is so low now Derek can barely hear it, shrouded in a sadness so deep and so bitter Derek can’t take it. It hurts, a burning pain at the centre of his chest, and all Derek wants to do now is relieve Stiles from it, relieve him from the darkness he’s letting himself falling into.

“No, you didn’t.” Derek tries to meet his gaze but Stiles looks away from him, ashamed, terrified. Derek gently touches his cheek and forces him to look back. “You didn’t do this, Stiles. It wasn’t you, it’s not your fault.”

“I was there, Derek. Inside of me.”

Stiles shakes him off and pulls back to the wall, his body curled and distant, and Derek feels like he wants to scream. That wasn’t  Stiles, it was something dark and horrible and Stiles is not like that. He is kind, and pure, the purest soul Derek has ever had chance to meet, and he just wants Stiles to understand.

Everything that’s happened to him, to everyone else – Stiles is not the one to blame. Nobody blames _him_ for the Nogitsune actions, still he feels responsible for it.

“That thing used my body,” Stiles talks on. “It used _me_ to hurt you. To hurt everyone I care about, and I can’t, I just can’t-“

Stiles gasps, breathing heavily as the blood leaves his cheeks and he turns paler every second more. Derek immediately moves next to him, gently caressing his bare arms, whispering to his ear.

“It wasn’t you, you didn’t do it, any of it. You saved your father’s life, Stiles, when you called the police to bring them to the preserve. Do you remember that? You saved him.”

Stiles faintly nods, trying to catch his breath.

“I… I did. That was me. For a moment, that was me,” he says looking up to Derek, meeting his bright green eyes veiled with dark shadows he doesn’t recognize. “But I hurt you.”

“I’m strong enough to take it.”

When Derek smiles Stiles shakes his head, as if he refused to believe his words.

“I hurt you, Derek.” _The one person who have saved me more times than I can count_ , he would add, but the words get stuck in his throat.

“It’s gonna be alright. The Nogitsune is gone, now.”

Stiles sighs, but doesn’t push Derek away. “It is,” he mutters under his breath.

“Hey. It’s okay.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and rests his head against the wall, his eyes vague and tired. “Yeah. Right.”

He gets up, barely able to stand on his legs, and hobbles toward the big metal door that keeps him from the world outside, from Scott, and from his dad, from everything he’s ever cared about in his whole life.

“Stiles…”

When he hears Derek’s voice – deep, dark, heavy – Stiles stops, right in the middle of the room, while his heart starts pounding in his chest.

“I know.”

So _he knows._

Not that Stiles planned to keep it a secret, he knew that the news would spread eventually, but having Derek saying it like that, well, it feels wrong. He knew it was just a matter of time before Derek would find out, or before Scott told him, but… he hasn’t seen Derek since he left Beacon Hills and they meet again like this, with the Nogitsune and all that shit, and it just doesn’t feel right.

Stiles knows that it’s been stupid of him thinking that Derek would come by after his absence, maybe to tell him he was back, maybe just to say hello. They’re not friends, after all. They’ve never been. Still, there was a tiny part of him that was waiting for Derek to come back, waiting to see his ugly face again.

“Can-“

Derek shuts up, as if he didn’t know what else to say. It’s been few days now since Stiles has been tested, few horrible days with Stiles being possessed by a dark spirit, few horrible days when Stiles had disappeared and Derek’s heart has felt heavy with fear.

“It was Scott, wasn’t it?”

Stiles doesn’t turn and Derek briefly looks at his back, at his curved shoulders, at his shaking hands, resting at the side of his body.

 “He called me from the hospital. I got there as soon as I got his text.”

Derek is almost sure Stiles’ just sobbed, his shoulders shake for a moment and when he turns to face him, his face is so pale that the wolf inside of Derek’s chest growls.

“Mmh.” Stiles nods, to himself mostly, and clears his throat, avoiding Derek’s eyes. “They ran test on me that day, before that problem with the power and everything.”

“I know.”

Scott didn’t tell him Derek was there that day. Not that Stiles asked, or even thought of asking; it was just impossible, or at least that’s what he thought. Apparently he was wrong.

He doesn’t remember much of that day – only the noise, the lights going off and then being out of the hospital, fully dressed and alone.

“Stiles-“

“Don’t.” Stiles walks in circle for a moment as a trapped animal, biting his nails and casting sidelong glances at him.

Derek feels the wolf getting nervous, now. It rasps and growls and howls, troubled.  

“Please, just don’t.” Stiles runs his fingers through his hair and stops walking, facing Derek with pleading eyes.

“Can we just- I don’t know, _be us_? You know, with you barking around, all gritting teeth and threats, and me being, you know, just me?”

For a moment – a glorious, bright moment everything comes back as it was. Derek glares at him and Stiles winces back, neither of them willing to say anything else, and they’re just Derek and Stiles again, ready to jump at each other’s throat, to verbally insult each other, to hide behind sarcasm and sharp words.

Derek firmly grips his hands until his knuckles turn white and when he looks up at Stiles his heart skips a beat.

“Still a big fan of ‘ _ignoring the problem until eventually it goes away’_ , I see.”

Stiles gives him an ineffective grin, the circles around his eyes too dark and too deep to let him look like his old self. “Wolf memory, ha?”

“No, just your babbling sticking.”

It feels so easy to do this – the barking, the fighting. It’s easy, and secure, something like a safe place both of them can hide into. They can still pretend nothing has changed, just for a moment, but they both know that it doesn’t matter, as hard as they try nothing will ever be the same.

“Derek, I mean it.”

Derek looks uncomfortable, Stiles notices. He looks like he’s got something to say but can’t find the words – not that it’s a big surprise. Derek’s never been great with speeches, Stiles knows it well.

“Stiles, you can’t ignore this.”

Derek stops torturing his hands and relaxes the fingers, blood running again freely. He looks away, at the door and at the glass windows and the walls and _everything else but Stiles_ , when he murmurs, “ _I_ can’t ignore this.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything for what seems like a never-ending amount of time. The room feels incredibly small now, with no quick escapes, no way out.

“I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes to-“

“To what?” Stiles runs his fingers through his hair in another frustrated gesture and exhales. “Derek, there’s no way out of this. It’s nothing you, or Scott, or everyone else can fight.”

Derek’s eyes flash blue for a moment and Stiles feels like he can’t breathe. It seems like there’s something sucking the air out of his lungs and he shivers while cold sweat runs down his spine.

“No,” Derek says, stepping towards him, and this time doesn’t look away. “I’m sure-“

“What?” Stiles almost shouts. He’s breathing heavily now, it’s difficult to focus. “You think this is some supernatural bullshit and-“

“Stiles, _think_.” Derek reaches out his hand but then stops, leaving it in mid-air. He slowly takes it back, unsure. “The Nogitsune could-“

“No, it couldn’t!” Stiles screams, and he doesn’t seem to care if Scott or Deaton or anybody else is at the other side of the door, listening.

He needs to calm down and breathe before the panic attack gets to him. Derek watches his chest moving quickly, up and down, and Stiles bends, his hands on his knees while he tries to get rid of that cold feeling invading him from the inside.

Derek reaches him in a fraction of a second, his own heart hammering as drums inside of him. He gently places a hand on Stiles’ back, the other on his shoulder, and whispers to his ear. “It’s okay, Stiles. It’s okay, just breathe.”

Stiles steps aside, the skin under the clothes burning where Derek touched it.

“Stop, stop doing this,” he says under his breath. “Stop doing this _to me_.”

Derek moves a step in his direction but Stiles steps back, his eyes wide open, breathing with his mouth.

Derek lifts a hand towards him as if he wanted to reach over, to touch him, but Stiles doesn’t want to be reached, he doesn’t want to be touched. The intimacy they were sharing when Stiles woke up is gone, smoke into thin air, and Derek feels something in his stomach, something cold moving viciously. “You don’t understand, this-“

“No, _you_ don’t understand.” Stiles turns his back on him to hide the tears. “What do you think happened to my mother, huh? She had it, Derek, the same thing that’s eating my brain was eating hers. There’s nothing supernatural in all of this, just science, and some freaking scary disease that science doesn’t know how to cure.”

Stiles wipes away a tear from his cheek and heads to the furthest wall from Derek, punching it until his knuckles hurt.

“I wish you were right,” he whispers and he can feel Derek’s behind him, now. He can feel his scent, his solid presence standing so close it would be so easy to touch. Stiles would really like to reach out to Derek and God, he tried. It wasn’t a big try, but he tried.

“I wish it so badly,” he says in an even lower voice. “I wish it was all the Nogitsune’s fault and you could save me with just one bite. But let’s face it, sourwolf.”

Derek silently sighs and shakes his head, so close to give in to the wolf inside. It would be so easy to let go, to let the wolf take over and run away. So easy to forget this conversation, and Stiles’ sad eyes, and all those words Derek can’t say.

“That’s it,” Stiles continues with a sad smile stretching his dry lips. He turns around to face Derek and sighs. “End of the line. In a few months I’ll be-“

“Don’t say it.” Derek shakes his head and Stiles can hear it, that shade in his voice. He takes a deep breath, hoping that will make it go away or help him forget it, but the shade is still there, all over Derek’s body, and Stiles doesn’t need stupid superpowers to notice.

He sighs again, heavily. “Gone. And if I really have to go, I wanna go at my own terms. I wanna live now, Derek.”

And there they are, all the words Stiles has been too scared to say. Everything he has been thinking since that day at the hospital, the things he couldn’t say to his dad, or Scott.

Derek gets it, somehow. He’s not the one affected by something scarier than a supernatural spirit, but he gets it. Stiles wants to live before it’s too late, he wants to enjoy that last ride until he can; he doesn’t want to think about the Nogitsune now, or the Kitsune, or everything else, he just wants to make the few time he has left matter. And he should, Derek knows it well. That doesn’t mean he’s gonna stop trying to save him.

“I want to live before I die,” Stiles says, and when a sob tries to shake him he swallows it back. “I… I want to do all the things I’ve never done, out of fear or God knows what. I want to spend some time with my dad, I want to tell him it’s okay. I want to tell Scott to look after him when I’m gone. And I-“

Derek is shaking now. His mouth is painfully shut, his hands are pale and cold as he holds them tight. He’s breathing heavily too, and Stiles knows he’s being an asshole, telling him all that. He’s being selfish, he’s letting everything out with the only person that doesn’t deserve to add pain to his own.

“What, Stiles?”

Derek’s voice is shaking just like his body and when Stiles looks up at him his face is pale, his eyes blurry.

Stiles feels the tears in his own and tries to swallow them back but fails. They’re too many and too heavy, all he needs to do is let them out and it will feel better, at least a little bit. So he lets them.

He cries, shameless, feeling nude and exposed in front of Derek, the only one he didn’t think would stick by his side in a time like this. Derek pushed him away before, but he’s here now, right when Stiles needs him the most.

“I want to wipe off my biggest regret.”

Derek tries a small smile and the result is just a wrinkle at the corner of his lips. “Won’t it blow away as all the things you don’t want to deal with?”

“Not this one, no.” Stiles shakes his head and bites his lips, tasting the salty of his own tears. He looks right into Derek’s eyes and he waits.

Derek knows it’s up to him now, like it’s always been. He’s always been the one making the calls when it came to them, when they had to decide whether they wanted to become friends or not, whether they wanted to deal with that something in their chest moving at the mere thought of each other’s name.

He thought leaving was the right thing to do, the only thing to keep Stiles safe, but he was so wrong.

Stiles _wants_ him, _needs_ him, and Derek never noticed before the way Stiles’ eyes shine a bit brighter whenever he’s around, the way his sarcasm seems to be sharper, his grins lighter. He’s been such an idiot to leave before even trying, and what now? Will his time be enough?

Derek sighs, his eyes red, his lips a sad, straight line. He cannot stand the thought of letting Stiles go now, not when he’s been so scared, not when he needs him so badly.

“I don’t want you to go, Stiles. If you just let me-“

Stiles smiles, his face sticky with tears.

“Hey… hey, sourwolf,” he murmurs, lifting a hand and caressing Derek’s face, slowly. His skin is hot to the touch, itchy where the beard grows, and Stiles feels like his heart could momentarily stop. “It’s okay, I promise. It’s gonna be okay.”

Derek leans in to his touch and closes his eyes for a moment as a solitary tear runs down his cheek.

“No, it’s not.”

Stiles’ heart aches in a physical, disturbing pain. Derek doesn’t deserve his lies, his stupid reassurances. He can do better than that.

“No, no it’s not,” he lets out and Derek opens his eyes, looking right into him. “Don’t leave me now.”

Stiles grabs his shirt as if it could help him staying anchored to this world a bit longer, as if Derek could keep him here only by his will. Stiles places his hand on Derek’s chest, right where his heart is, and feels the frantic beats pulsing through the clothes. Derek should calm down before he gets a stroke.

Derek puts a finger under his chin and Stiles looks up. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Stiles faintly nods and sniffles, still grabbing Derek’s shirt. He’s not sure he wants to let go of it.

“Good.”

 

*

 

“Well, it looks to me like it’s worked.”

Scott sits down in Deaton’s office, glancing at Stiles and the Sheriff outside in the corridor. Stilinski senior looks exhausted, worn out, the worst Scott has ever seen him at. It took Scott all of his guts and lots of pressure by his mother to finally go and talk to the Sheriff, explaining everything to him, Nogitsune included. He was incredulous, of course, but the Sheriff seems to have learned his lesson, so he stoically took everything in and when Scott finished his story, the Sheriff just asked to see his son.

“The plant poisoned the fox,” Deaton says slowly, him too looking at Stiles. “I’m not sure that was enough.”

Scott shakes his head. “Look at him. That’s him, for real now.”

“Well,” Deaton sighs, nodding almost to himself. “I guess we will find out.”

 

*

 

Derek can’t help it. Now that Stiles is back – his usual, restless self – Derek just wants to be with him, every minute, every second. God knows how much time they’ve got left, and they wasted so much already.

Derek needs Stiles just as much as Stiles needs him, and the thought he’s about to lose him drives him mad.

Stiles will get back to school, to his old life, and everyone will do their best not to let him into their supernatural crap at the moment. Not that Stiles would let them cut him out, but at least they will try.

Derek hasn’t left him for a second since he got him back, skinny and pale and exhausted.

When the Sheriff takes him back home Derek follows and spends the evening there, just sitting next to him on the sofa in front of the television. He pretends to leave but gets back through Stiles’ window just to lie with him on the soft, comfortable bed and watches him sleep all night. Stiles curls up in his arms, unconsciously, and Derek holds him tight, inhaling his scent. It’s a bit more bitter than usual, due to the recent possession.

When Stiles has to leave for school the next morning Derek almost asks him not to, to just stay home. With him.

But footsteps on the stairs warn them the Sheriff is on his way to the room, and Derek leaves in a hurry, sneaking out of the window and jumping down on the lawn.

 

*

 

“Dude, you smell-“

“I don’t _smell_ , you dumbass,” Stiles replies making a face and Scott sighs.

“You smell _like Derek_ ,” he finishes and waits for Stiles’ reaction. Scott expects some kind of confession, embarrassment for sure, and lots of stuff to mock Stiles for years and years to come. Stiles smiles instead, _grins_ , and obliviously shrugs.

“We slept together,” he says in a cheerful voice Scott finds hard to register. “I think he likes me.”

“You-“ Scott shakes his head, taking some books from his locker. “Dude, I think-“

“You think I’m something else to him. I guess you’re right.” Stiles shuts his locker with a metallic noise and starts heading to their next class. “Let’s see what happens now.”

Stiles waves goodbye and rushes away in the crowd, leaving Scott still and speechless.

 

*

 

_Pick me up after school?_

 

Derek reads the text and his heart jumps in his chest. He quickly replies a neutral “OK” and gets back to his bed, laying down on his back and staring at the ceiling. After years of mistrust and fights here they are, sleeping together and texting afterwards. It feels nice.

Derek smiles without even knowing and checks the time. School will be over soon, and Stiles will be waiting for him, probably in the parking lot. The wolf inside howls and Derek decides to ignore it.

It was weird how cool the Sheriff was with having him over the night before, how he let them spend time together asking no questions about it. Derek was charged for murder after all, and he and Stiles have never been close before. Still the Sheriff glanced at them and left the room, casually letting them know _he was just upstairs_.

Derek gets into the shower and closes his eyes. All he sees behind the closed eyelids is Stiles, possessed Stiles trying to kill them all and trying to save them at the same time. He shakes his head to chase away those thoughts and images that make him feel horrible and thinks of Stiles’ smile instead, the same smile that was never for him before.

Things are changing now, they still have time.

 

*

 

“Hey there, sourwolf.”

Stiles blesses him with a bright smile when he gets in the passenger’s seat and Derek can’t help but smile back. Things between them seem to burst of speed now, as if they’re just making up for all the time they wasted in the past, and yeah, maybe everything’s happening a bit too quickly, but Derek likes it better than the almost nothing they had before.

“Hey,” Derek replies and turns on the engine. “Where to?”

“I thought we could, you know…” Stiles briefly looks at him and gestures a lot. He will never stop doing that. “Spend some time together? Just you and me.”

“What do you wanna do?”

Derek keeps his eyes on the street not to embarrass Stiles – or himself. This whole thing is new to them, and it’s not easy to deal with. Fighting was easy. Grinning and insulting each other was easy, Derek knew how to do it. This? This is hard, something he’s never had before. Not with Kate, not with anybody else.

Stiles shrugs.

“My dad is not home,” he says in a low voice and Derek nods lightly. “He won’t be back before tonight.”

“If you make me watch some stupid tv show, I swear I’ll tear your throat out,” Derek says, but he’s smiling, and Stiles grins back.

“Cooking program?” he asks, and the tension between them visibly lightens. Derek shakes his head as he drives into the Stilinski’s property and Stiles laughs out loud, as happier as Derek’s ever seen him.

Stiles leads him inside, into the living room, and lets his school bag fall down as he kicks off his shoes. He sits on the sofa, the controller already in his hands, and pats the spot next to him in a silent invitation. Derek rolls his eyes to the ceiling and hides a smirk.

“All you want to do is sit down and do nothing,” Derek addresses him with a hint of indignation in his voice. “How very productive of you.”

“I’m a productive kid,” Stiles retorts him. “It’s not my fault if I’m made of awesomeness.”

“Yeah, right.”

Derek laughs, a sincere laugh that makes Stiles smile, and Derek loves Stiles’ smiles. They warm him up, make him feel at peace with the world around, and maybe he could tell Stiles all that, maybe he could lay his cards down and see what happens next. But the thought is so scary, and even though Derek knows Stiles feels something for him, well, he doesn’t know if they’re really ready for that. They’re running at a high speed, but maybe that would be just too much.

“Derek?”

The beta turns to look at him and Stiles’ eyes are serious now. Derek’s smile slowly fades away, leaving no trace of its existence, and he only lets out a doubtful “Yes?”

“Would you hold me?”

Derek exhales and silently puts his arms around Stiles’ fragile body, feeling the kid relaxing against him. The television is still on but neither of them pay attention to it now, and while Stiles curls closer to him, Derek inhales his well-acquainted scent and starts running his fingers through Stiles’ hair. It’s warm, and cosy, and oddly familiar, intimate as it’s never been before.

“I will miss it,” Stiles whispers on his chest and Derek looks down at him.

“What?” he quietly asks, still caressing Stiles’ hair. His fingers move down to his forehead, his cheeks; Derek gently touches his lips and Stiles slowly places kisses on each of his fingers, making him shiver.

“This,” Stiles says staring at him, his eyes bright and sad. “Missing you.”

“What-“

“You know,” Stiles interrupts him and his hand moves to Derek’s chest, drawing imaginary circles on his shirt. “When you left to South America I… I don’t know, I felt like there was something wrong with me, I felt weird and angry and alone. Then I got it.”

Derek lets Stiles touch him and closes his eyes while the feeling of Stiles’ fingers on him warms him up from the inside.

“It took me a while, mind you,” Stiles talks on and he caresses Derek’s face with his cold, skinny fingers. “But since I’m not an emotionally constipated werewolf I made it. It was you, Derek. I was missing you.”

Derek listens close to every word coming out from Stiles’ perfect mouth, his eyes fixed on his lips. So that’s how it happened for him – no supernatural comprehension, just a slow, breath-taking realization of what Derek’s absence made him feel.

“And I couldn’t believe it because, come on, it was absurd.” Stiles smiles sadly, avoiding Derek’s gaze, his eyes focused on Derek’s shirt. “Still, I missed you. Every day, until you came back. Even then, even when I knew you were back, were _home_ , I missed you a bit less but couldn’t help missing you at all.”

Derek holds him tighter now, his heart beating furiously in his chest and the wolf howling to be released. Stiles’ eyes are shiny with tears and Derek wants to wipe them away, erase the sadness because Stiles doesn’t deserve to suffer, to be so irremediably sad. He’s suffered enough in his whole life, and Derek would do anything not to let him suffer again.

“And I will miss it, missing you,” Stiles whispers, so close to Derek’s lips, “because when I was missing you back then at least I knew you would’ve come back.”

Derek feels Stiles’ breath on his own lips and he didn’t notice his body started shaking. He looks into Stiles’ eyes, into his deepness, and frowns when Stiles rubs his nose against his own.

“You’ve never-“

“Well, you’ve never told me you’ve missed me either,” Stiles smiles. “So I guess we’re even.”

Derek feels his heart squeeze in pain at the thought of what they’ve pushed away, hoping they will have enough time to make it right before Stiles-

No, he can’t think about it, he can’t think about what will happen to Stiles and he feels like he’s chocking, like once Stiles will be gone there’ll be no air for him left to breathe.

Stiles seems to read his mind and when he kisses him Derek’s mind goes blank.

 

*

_Stiles wants to scream._

_Derek talks, and talks, and touches him, and from that cold place he’s in now Stiles can feel it. He feels Derek’s touch, his warm gentle hands, he feels it like a sting on his – probably incorporeal and very fucked up – body._

_Derek talks to the thing that’s pretending to be him, reassures it, tells it that is gonna be alright something like a thousand times and when he hugs it Stiles’ heart aches in pain, squeezing in his chest._

_For so long he’s wished for Derek to come back, to talk to him, to let him through that wall Derek has built around himself. Derek ran away and now that he’s back, now that he’s finally talking to Stiles, willing to let him through… Stiles is not there. He’s not there to look him in the eyes, to touch him, to let Derek hold him in the best hug ever._

_Stiles is not there and Derek doesn’t know. He doesn’t notice._

_“Look at him, Stiles. So happy, and so sad.”_

_“Leave him alone.” Stiles grits his teeth while unexpected tears start running down his face. The Nogitsune comes closer and stares at him, an interrogative expression on its face._

_“He wanted you back, Stiles, he wanted it so badly. He doesn’t want to leave you now, does he?”_

_“Leave him out of this.” Stiles would gladly add “Please” if it’d only help. But asking nicely it’s something a Nogitsune wouldn’t understand, and Stiles lets himself slide down the wall to the cold floor, defeated._

_It won’t leave Derek alone, he knows that. Probably it won’t kill him either, but Stiles is pretty sure the Nogitsune won’t let go._

_“But you love him,” the Nogitsune replies with a soft smile. “You want to be with him. Now you are.”_

_“No, I-“_

_“We’re inside your head, Stiles. We know what you know, every feel you feel. We know your sadness, each and every one of the tears you’ve hidden from the world. We know you love him, and you love him so much.”_

_Stiles tries to hold back the tears but fails. That thing is inside of him and it knows, it knows everything, and while it goes around pretending to be him Stiles is stuck inside of his own head, in a dark illusion he doesn’t know how to break._

_“What do you want from him? What do you need him for?”_

_Stiles shadow-self stares into Stiles’ eyes, its head cocked aside, and a maniac smile stretches its lips._

_“We want his pain,” the Nogitsune says, as if it were the simplest thing in the world and Stiles was just dumb not  to have understood it before. “His pain is strong, and it’ll be even stronger.”_

_The Nogitsune turns its back to Stiles and walks away, leaving him alone in the darkness._

 

*

 

Scott rushes into Deaton’s office, his face twisted with apprehension. The doctor raises his eyes from the files he’s reading and looks at him, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“What else have you got?” Scott asks walking towards him and facing him. He looks serious, and seriously concerned.

“What do you mean, Scott?”

“I mean about the Nogitsune.”

Deaton doesn’t reply and keeps on staring at him instead, silent and quiet, as still as a statue. Scott slams his fists onto the table, eyes flashing red. Deaton doesn’t move a muscle, nor he seems impressed, and Scott closes his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily.

“I… I don’t think it’s worked,” he mutters and slides down on a chair. He rubs his eyes as to rub away the weariness and when he speaks again his voice is painted with plea.

“The injection of that herb, I don’t it’s worked.”

Deaton nods and leans back on his chair.

“Do you think that’s still the Nogitsune,” he says and Scott looks unsure. “I told you the injection was probably only gonna slow it down for a while.”

“Can you do something? Can you give him more?” Scott asks, sparkling hope painted all over his face. The vet shakes his head slowly and he looks really sorry when he says “Not without poisoning Stiles.”

Scott sighs. “What can we do, then?”

 

*

 

_I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t remember what I did. I’m home, and I have no idea how I got here._

 

The wolf inside of him howls loudly when Derek reads Stiles’ text. He hurries to the car and drives as fast as he can to get to Stiles as soon as possible. He says he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t know what’s going on, and there’s only one possible explanation to all of this.

When he gets to the house, Derek finds the door open and his eyes turns blue while he sniffs the air, trying to understand what happened, or if someone else’s inside.

“Derek?”

Stiles is on the floor, his head in his hands, and when he sees him his expression lightens a bit. He stands up and stumbles in his direction, but Derek’s quicker and reaches him immediately, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m here,” he whispers to his ear and feels Stiles sobbing against his chest. “It’s okay, it’s gonna be alright.”

Stiles holds tight on to him, grabbing every piece of him he can touch, and tears run down his face. Derek kisses them off and looks into Stiles’ eyes, caressing his face gently in a desperate attempt to calm him down.

“What happened?” he asks and Stiles shakes his head.

“I don’t know, I don’t remember,” he whines. “I was on my way to Scott’s, then I was here. I tried to call Scott but he doesn’t answer, and my dad is not here, I thought he didn’t have to work tonight but… I’m not sure anymore. Derek, I-“

“It’s okay now, you’re safe,” Derek blows to his lips before placing a gentle, soft kiss on it and Stiles takes deep breaths to control the panic attack that’s coming. Derek leads him to the couch and lets him lay down, sitting right beside him.

“I’ll call Scott,” he says and Stiles tries to give him a small smile. “I’ll ask him to check on your dad and meet us here.”

Stiles nods and lets Derek cover him with a thin blanket. He looks so fragile, Derek thinks, and it’s not because he’s only human. The Stiles he knows seems to be fading away, all of his strength and vitality gone, replaced by tired eyes and uncoordinated movements. He looks young and scared in the big sofa, his shaking hands reaching over to Derek in a silent plea.

Derek feels useless once again, he doesn’t know what to do. Calling Scott is his first option, then what? He doubts Scott will have the answers they need.

Derek grabs his phone and dials the number he knows by heart. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs as he stands up from the sofa and walks to the main door. The phone rings – once, twice, then Derek spots Stiles, right at the corner of his eye; he stretches out his hand to him and Stiles smiles.

Then everything goes black.

 

*

 

When Derek opens his eyes his vision is blurry and out of focus. His head hurts and he tries to move only to find out he can’t, there’s something holding him still. He looks down at his body and silver chains sparkle all around it.

He’s in Stiles’ room, standing right in the middle of it, chained to the ceiling somehow.

“Finally, we were starting to get bored.”

Derek turns but even his neck is chained, so the movement is not as effective as he’d hoped. He can spot Stiles somewhere behind him, he can feel his presence and the moment Derek takes a deep breath he knows something is wrong. Stiles’ scent is bitter to his tongue, unbearable.

“You know, it’s not funny to feed on someone if they’re unconscious,” Stiles says, running a finger through Derek’s back to his torso, stepping right in front of him.

Derek pulls the chains but they’re too tight so he growls in frustration at the thing, eyes gazing blue and fangs growing in his mouth. “What have you done to him?”

“He’s where he’s always been,” the Nogitsune hisses with an ice-cold smile. It absently caresses Derek’s  body, looking right into his eyes, then taps its head with a smirk. “Right in here. All alone, forgotten. Abandoned.”

Derek growls right in its face, pushing his body with all the strength he’s got, jaw biting the thin air, and that wrong version of Stiles smiles again, then bursts into a proper laugh.

“Oh!” it says, its mouth open in amusement. “You _really_ believed it, didn’t you? You really believed Stiles was back. You wanted him so badly you didn’t realized that wasn’t him. You, of all people, couldn’t tell the difference.”

Derek feels something moving inside of him as the wolf howls, something cold and vicious that feels like blame and of blame has the taste. All this time Stiles has been trapped inside his own head and he didn’t know, he didn’t notice; he left Stiles alone in the dark because of his will to get him back, because of his hope that finally things would be alright. He abandoned him in the depths of his mind and welcomed the creature instead, that black darkness that took over Stiles’ body.

“Scott, well.” The Nogitsune shrugs, its eyes wide open and maniac, shining of a disturbing light. “He’s not that brilliant, is he? It was almost _logical_ for him not to get it, Stiles wasn’t sure he would anyway. But you.”

Derek feels a burning pain building up in his chest as what seems to be Stiles gently touches his lips with a cold finger.

“You, Derek, believed he was back, your precious little Stiles. Oh, I wish you could hear him! The screams, the pain… you would hate it.”

“Let him-“

“Go?” The Nogitsune smiles softly and grabs Derek’s face with one hand. “As if we would. We happen to like the boy, after all. He’s better than you lot, so much _more_ than any of you think he is. His pain keeps us alive, makes us stronger.”

Derek closes his eyes as the thing kisses him, forcing its tongue in his mouth. All this time he thought he spent with Stiles he spent it with the spirit instead. Every hug, every kiss, every smallest touch – that wasn’t Stiles. Derek finally got to be with him in ways he never imagined possible, and the spirit tricked him, giving him a pale illusion of what he wanted.

“He’s screaming your name, Derek. He’s desperate to get to you, just as much as you are to get to him. You’ve never told him, have you? What he really is to you. You never told him how much you care, how much you’ve longed for his touch. You’ve never told him how important, how _essential_ he is to you, to your life, how his happiness is the only thing you could ever wish for.”

“I will kill you-“

“You’ve never told him he’s your _mate_.”

The Nogitsune presses Stiles’ body against Derek’s and moans to the friction, pressing harder and stealing Derek another dirty kiss.

“Oops,” it says cheerfully on Derek’s lips. “I guess he knows now.”

Derek growls and jerks the chain without any luck, feeling trapped at the mercy of something that stole Stiles’ features. It looks just like him – his body, each and every of his moles, but his eyes are not the same, they have not the same bright light, and Derek blames himself for letting the Nogitsune fool him so easily. He believed it, he believed the lie and lived it, thinking only about how lucky he was to overtake the barrier he and Stiles always had put between each other. He _needed_ to believe it, he needed it so badly, because Stiles was everything he could think about, the one and only person made for him. Stiles had believed in him when the world had turned against him, Stiles had always been there by his side even when they mistrusted each other; Stiles had seen behind the wall Derek had built to hide from the world outside and started crashing it down one brick at a time.

If Stiles had found himself in Derek’s shoes, dealing with something that looked just like him but was not, he would’ve known.

Stiles would’ve looked in Derek’s eyes and understood. Derek didn’t.

“Now, shall we?”

Derek watches as the Nogitsune takes something from Stiles’ desk and he sees a tiny silver paper cutter shining in its hands. Stiles’ face is twisted with animal features, his eyes looks different, the skin paler, his lines sharper. It doesn’t really look like Stiles, skinny bony frenzied Stiles, and it fooled him so well. It was talking like Stiles, moving like him, creating an illusion for Derek to believe in, and it made it, achieved its purpose.

“We can feel your pain, Derek Hale,” the Nogitsune says as it sniffs Derek’s neck, holding the cutter with a maniacal look on its face. “You’ve suffered so much, and this,” it points at Stiles’ body with a grin, “this has made it worse. Oh, the blame! The shame for not understanding any of it, it’s killing you. Now give it away, Derek, give it to us.”

Derek doesn’t scream when the knife cuts his stomach. He grinds his teeth and clenches his fists, pulling the chains once more. He feels warm blood slowly pouring from the fresh wound down his stomach, staining his shirt in a dark red line.

The Nogitsune pushes the knife deeper into him and cups his face in one hand, sucking off all the pain Derek has to give. It hurts as if Derek’s life was being taken away from him, it physically hurts as he’s being pulled and pulled but that’s not what gets him. The only thing he can think about is how deeply he has disappointed Stiles, how hard he’s failed him, and that adds pain to the whole lot he already has carved inside. 

The Nogitsune closes its eyes – Stiles’ eyes – as it takes everything from him, and Derek doesn’t want to fight anymore. He can’t, not when he’s left Stiles alone, and if he only thinks how scared Stiles must be, how painful it is for him, he can’t take it.

So he stops pulling at the chains and lets himself slide into oblivion.

 

*

 

Scott isn’t entirely sure it’s gonna work, but it’s worth a try.

He leaves Deaton’s clinic with another syringe in his hands and rushes with his bike to Stiles’ place. He thinks of the mute phone call he received from Derek less than twenty minutes ago and hopes he’s still in time to fix this huge mess they’re all in.

When he gets to the house Kira is already there, waiting for him on the porch, her father right beside her, both wearing worried looks on their faces.

She tries to ask “What’s going on?” but Scott outdoes them fast, shaking his head and pushing the door open.

“There’s no time,” he yells as he steps inside, Kira right behind him. “You need to wait here,” he adds to her father as he enters the living room and smells immediately that there’s something wrong. He smells surprise, hatred, rage, fear. He smells blame, and hunger.

He rushes upstairs, Kira few steps after him, heads to Stiles’ bedroom and the smells become more intense, clearer, as he enters the room and finds Derek chained, passed out in front of what all of them believed was Stiles.

The Nogitsune has its eyes closed and is absorbing everything it can from Derek, just like it did with Scott few days earlier.

Scott glances at Kira and he’s sure, even though he couldn’t explain by phone, he’s sure she will understand. He’s less sure she _knows_ how to create a foxfire on her own, but she’s strong enough to do it. She’s done it before, she just needs to focus now, and Scott can just hope for the best.

 

*

 

When he opens his eyes his head feels heavy and detached from the rest of his body. He touches it, slowly, just to make sure it’s still in its place, and when he finds out it is he exhales in relief. He could’ve been dead, after all.

“Stiles?”

He turns around, slowly, and after few seconds he can finally put Scott’s face into focus. Scott smiles and hugs him tight, almost breaking every single bone in his body, and Stiles coughs, gently pushing him away. God, Scott was chocking him to death.

“Dude, don’t kill me now, yeah?” he croaks and pushes himself up a bit. He’s home, that’s good. It has to be, at least. He feels dizzy, his whole body stings a little, and there’s something wrong with Scott’s expression. He looks pale, Stiles notices, and there’s a puncture mark on his neck, right on the jugular. Kira is right behind him, her long hair gathered in a braid and her hands twisted on her lap; she looks scared and for a moment Stiles thinks he can see some kind of glow all around her body forming what looks like nine furry lines behind her. He blinks and the glow is gone leaving no trace behind it, so Stiles thinks he’s probably just imagined it.

“What happened?” he asks in a rusty voice and clears his throat out a bit. He looks at Scott and Kira, then at his living room. It’s a bit messier than usual with blankets laying around on the floor and Derek passed out next to couch and-

“What?” Stiles cries out moving quickly to check on him. A little bit too quickly. “What happened to him?”

“You don’t remember anything?” Scott asks as Stiles leans towards Derek’s unconscious body and thank God he’s breathing, even if he looks completely dried out, his skin tense and pinched. Stiles shakes his head in a negative response and Scott sighs.

 

*

 

Several hours of sleep, cups of hot chocolate and overthinking later, Stiles is sitting on his bed, his legs crossed and an empty cup in his hands. He still finds hard to believe what Scott told him – the possession, the Nogitsune tricking everyone into thinking it was him for _days_ – and he doesn’t remember much except darkness.

The more he tries to think about it, the more headaches he gets, but he’s stubborn and won’t let go so easily.

Scott made Kira create a foxfire to force the Nogitsune out of Stiles’ body, they made it jumpstart in someone else’s – not Kira, of course, because her _tails_ or foxfire or whatever protected her from it, not Derek because he was weak and passed out, so that left Scott. A true alpha with a dark fox inside of him.

Scott told him he couldn’t use the letharia on him again or it would’ve killed him, so he forced the Nogitsune to take him instead; he was sure he could fight it, he said, and the moment the Nogitsune jumped inside of him Scott injected himself with an heavier dose of antidote Deaton had prepared before.

Stiles knows that thing could’ve killed Scott as well and his best friend just pushed his luck; being an alpha, a wolf, there was a possibility the wolf lichen could’ve killed him and the fox both, he only played by chance there. Stiles cannot and will not thank him enough for that, for putting his own life at stake to save him, and even if it was incredibly stupid of him well, it worked.

When Stiles asked about Derek, Scott told him he was there to help him and things got fucked up because of the Nogitsune. Not that Stiles doesn’t believe him, but the texts on his phone suggest that there’s something else Scott is not telling him.

Stiles remembers, blurry like an out-of-focus dream, that he thought about Derek a lot when he was prisoner in his own body. He doesn’t remember what those thoughts were about exactly, nor why he was having them, and he remembers distant whispers, words he cannot catch. He feels like something happened with Derek, but what that was he couldn’t say. Derek was still unconscious when Scott brought him back home against Stiles’ objections – he was passed out, for God’s sake, they could’ve waited at least for him to come to – and Stiles didn’t see him after that. It’s only been a couple of days and all the time Stiles has tried to call him, dialling Derek’s phone number and staring at the green button, he’s felt so scared that he’s just decided to leave it.

A part of him is still scared to find out and his heart aches whenever he thinks about it, but there’s something else inside of him – not another Nogitsune, thank God, just a weird warm feeling now – that tells him to do it, to call Derek, to talk to him no matter how hard Derek pushed him away in the past.

It’s a sunny afternoon in Beacon Hills, his dad is at the station and Stiles is sick and tired to sit on his hands and wait for something to give him the strength to talk to the sourwolf. He’s not sure what he’s gonna say to him once he’ll get to the loft, but he doesn’t want to think about it too much as he grabs his keys and rushes off to his faithful old jeep.

 

*

 

“We need to talk,” Stiles says when he slides the loft door open and sees Derek at the window, staring outside. Derek turns to face him and walks in the room, stopping right in the middle.

“Come on, sourwolf, it’s just a talk.”

Stiles steps inside and slams the door shut behind him. He walks to Derek but stops just a couple of steps away from him, hands in his jeans pockets, thoughts streaming chaotically in his head. Derek doesn’t say anything and just stands there, and he’s never been one for big speeches but at least he knew how to speak. Or at least that’s what Stiles thought. Now Derek looks like he would gladly jump out of the window, his eyebrows joined together in a straight line, his lips shut, the jaw clenched.

Derek stares at him and Stiles feels uncomfortable as if those eyes could read everything he’s tried so hard to hide; he shifts his weight from one leg to the other and looks down at his shoes.

“What do you want, Stiles?”

Derek’s voice is tired and bitter like never before, and Stiles has always thought Derek was not particularly fond of him, but he’s never shown this much disdain either.

“Thanks a lot for making it easier, eh.”

Truth is, Stiles doesn’t know what to say. Now that he’s facing Derek, now that he can look into his shimmering green eyes he seems to lack of words, his mouth is dry and speaking is becoming difficult. Derek doesn’t help – of course – and he looks so exhausted Stiles is starting to worry, seriously worry about him.

“I know you were there for me, the other day,” Stiles whispers and doesn’t look at Derek, he can’t or everything he’s trying to say will blow away from his mind and he won’t be able to say it anymore and it’ll be all Derek’s fault because _he doesn’t help_. “I know the Nogitsune tricked you all and I know it tricked _you_ to come to me. I-“

Stiles takes a deep breath, exhales, but words don’t seem to come out right. There are so many things he wants to say and he mumbles instead, insecure, and Derek is looking at him now and he looks so sad, so broken Stiles can’t take it.

“I… I don’t exactly remember what happened while that thing was using me,” he says in a low voice. He feels like he’s breaking now, like everything is just too much and he’s not sure he can handle it. He’s not sure he can handle the way Derek looks at him now, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of him. “But I remember you. Kind of. I remember you were there, I remember you were talking to me – well, to the fox, but you couldn’t know.”

“Stiles-“

“No,” Stiles cuts him off and finally stares at him. He won’t look away this time. “Let me finish. Look, I know it tricked you, I remember it told you things… well, I don’t know what it said precisely, but it took it from me, Derek. Everything the Nogitsune told you, it took it from me. It was inside of me, it could feel everything I felt, read every thought I thought. And whatever it told you, it was me. Not me-me because I was momentarily out of reach, as to say, but it was me. And I have no idea how it could upset you so much and really, I just- I’m sorry, Derek. I’m sorry, for everything.”

Stiles shuts the hell up, finally, and his whole speech doesn’t make too much of sense, but he hopes Derek can get it. He knows he can, Derek seems to get lots of stuff about him other people don’t.

Derek is breathing heavily now, almost gasping for air or words or whatever, and Stiles wants to hold him, he wants it so badly. He’s always wanted it. He wants to tell him it’s okay, the Nogitsune is gone now and it won’t hurt them anymore.

“Derek-“

“I thought it was you,” Derek whines and Stiles has never seen him like this, so fragile, a broken shell with a broken soul. “Everything I- I thought it was you, and it wasn’t.”

“Hey,” Stiles raises his hand and reaches over to touch him, but Derek moves over. Stiles chokes on his own breath and gets the hand back to his pocket, and his eyes itch and he feels like something horrible has just happened.

“It’s okay,” he says moving one step backwards. “It’s not your fault, you couldn’t know.”

“No, Stiles, I-“

When Derek steps closer, Stiles takes another step back. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, that’s all,” he says and his throat aches as if something got stuck in it. His eyes are now burning with repressed tears and he just wants to get the hell out of there, he doesn’t even know why he came in the first place. He just thought… oh, who is he kidding? There’s no way he and Derek are gonna sort out whatever problem is it that they have, they had years and never did, so why now?

“I better be going.”

Stiles turns his back on Derek and almost runs to the door, but Derek’s hand closes around his wrist in a tight grip he can’t escape so he stops, his cheeks flushed with humiliation and jitters.

“Please, don’t-“

“Leave me alone.” Stiles cannot believe how bitter is voice sounds, how harsh and horrible, but he can think about it some other time. All he wants to do now is leave, leave everything behind, leave Derek behind.

“I told you stuff,” Derek says, his voice low and dark, and his grip loosens. “I thought it was you, and I- well, you did all the talking.”

“That sounds like me, yes.”

Stiles doesn’t turn to face him, but he doesn’t leave either. Derek clears his throat and Stiles knows how hard this is for him, how difficult to find the words and _tell_ them, but it needs to be done. Stiles needs to know what the hell happened to make Derek so fucking sad, to break him more than anyone thought possible.

“I guess I showed you,” Derek says and Stiles can’t help but ask, “Showed me what?”

“How much I care.”

Stiles swears his heart stopped for a moment, right there, and even if it’s beating now it doesn’t feel the same. It’s pounding, racing as if it wanted to burn a hole in Stiles’ chest, and it hurts but in a good way, if there’s such thing.

“I’ve never-“ Derek stops and when Stiles turns to him he can spots tears in his amazingly beautiful eyes. “You’re to me more than you could ever imagine, and I’ve never told you because- I don’t know, maybe I was just scared, and I thought you’d be better off without me, and-“

“That wasn’t your call to make,” Stiles tells him and for a second he hates Derek so much for not letting him know when the time was right, for leaving him in the dark and out of all of this, and who gave him the right?

Then Stiles thinks about Derek’s life and blames himself for being such an idiotic asshole. Derek has suffered so much, and lost everything, and of course he has troubles in trusting people and Stiles gets it, he really does. Derek doesn’t open up to anyone because he got hurt before, because his whole life has been burnt down and it’s tough to try and put the pieces back together after that.

And somehow he knows Derek was only trying to protect him, because that’s what Derek always does. He cares so much about people even if he doesn’t show, he tries to protect them, and he’s always protected Stiles, or at least he’s tried. What Derek doesn’t understand is that he’s not the threat, here. He’s never been.

“You’re my _everything_ , and I’ve never told you.”

Stiles gasps for air and moves closer to him, trying to catch his eyes but Derek is looking away – everywhere else but at him – and Stiles cups his face with both hands to force him to look back.

“I don’t know what that thing told you,” he whispers, “but I know what I can tell you, Derek stupid Hale. I want you, I have always wanted you. And I need you more than anything else in my life, and when you left I was angry and alone. I don’t want to feel that lonely never again, and I hated you for leaving. When you got back I thought we-“

“What, Stiles?”

Derek moves closer as well and now there’s almost nothing left between them, no distance, no regrets. Stiles breathes on Derek’s lips, his heart a rhythmical drum in his chest, and shyly puts his hands on Derek’s shoulders, grabbing the shirt in his fingers.

“I thought we could-“

When Derek lets out a soft, tender, “I’ve missed you too,” Stiles can’t believe it. Not that he can entirely believe what Derek’s told him just few moments before, the words keep on running in his head, loudly. _My everything. My everything._

When Derek kisses him, Stiles wonders if he could die of happiness. He thinks so.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

When Stiles gets a call from the hospital cold sweat runs down his spine, making him shiver.

His dad drives him, his face blank in the attempt of hide the fear that got to him, and when they get there Stiles doesn’t think he can take it.

He’s just got rid of a powerful dark spirit that was possessing him, dealing with the effects of the dementia _now_ is just too much. He didn’t tell Scott he was going to get checked again, and he didn’t tell Derek. He doesn’t want to deal with this by himself, but he couldn’t drop it to them either.

“Mr Stilinski,” the doctor says shaking his father’s hand and giving Stiles a pat on the shoulder. “I don’t know how to say it, but…”

“Please, just say it,” the Sheriff replies in a broken voice. He’s trying to be strong, but Stiles knows he’s not. “Whatever it is, just tell us.”

The doctor clears his throat and walks them into a white, aseptic room. He shows them to a couple of chairs and they sit quietly, their heart beating faster as fear grows in their chests. The doctor sits at the other side of the desk, right in front of them, and joins his hands together.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” he says, his voice painted in regret. “A terrible mistake.”

Stiles feels his dad getting nervous every second more, not knowing driving him crazier than knowing a terrible truth.

“Please, can you just-“

“Stiles doesn’t have the dementia.”

The few seconds that follow the doctor’s words are still like a framed picture, the room seems to freeze and time itself stops while Stiles and his dad exchange a shocked, meaningful look and the doctor lightly coughs to get their attention.

“I’m sorry,” he says when they finally look back at him. “There’s been a mistake, something to do with the machineries and the electrical problems we had that day. Apparently the power problem tricked something with the electrical circuits and everything went crazy.”

“So, are you saying-“

Stiles’ dad doesn’t complete his sentence and shuts up instead, too overwhelmed to speak, his eyes wet with tears of relief. Stiles moves on his chair, leaning over the desk and staring right into the doctor’s eyes.

“I’m not sick?” he asks with incredulity in his voice. “You mean like, not having dementia and everything?”

“Stiles, I think that’s just what the doctor meant when he said you _don’t have the dementia_ ,” the Sheriff rumbles just before bursting into a big, hilarious laughter.

“I-“ Stiles stands up and moves frantically around the room, all jazz-hands and maniacal eyes. He runs to the doctor, takes his hands in his own and shakes them fast, then hugs him tight and the doctor laughs though he looks embarrassed. The Sheriff gets on his feet and takes his hyperactive son off the doctor and when Stiles hugs him tight, so tight it feels he could break his bones, the Sheriff lets a solitary tear run down his ecstatic face. He kisses Stiles on his forehead and rounds his shoulders with his arm, turning then to the doctor.

“Thank you,” he whispers with emotions in his voice so huge it makes it hard to talk. “Thank you.”

 

*

 

“If you had one wish, only one,” Stiles says when Derek opens the loft door. “What would it be?”

Derek blinks at him blankly, then steps aside to let him in. “Stiles, what are you-“

“Humour me, sourwolf. One wish. What would you ask for?”

Derek’s expression darkens, then green in his eyes deepens as he moves away from Stiles and faces the windows instead. “You know what I’d ask for.”

“Just say it.”

“What for?” Derek turns to face him with frustration in his flashing blue eyes and Stiles’ look softens as he reaches a hand to caress Derek’s arm; he pulls him closer, eyes never breaking contact, and he’s breathing on his lips when he says, “Please.”

Derek sighs and rounds his waist with his muscled arm while gently brushing his cheek with his warm fingers. “If I had just one wish, I would ask for you to never leave me. Never, not in a million years, because you’re everything I have and I love you.”

Stiles smiles on his lips and suddenly kisses him, holding on to him tightly. “Wish granted.” Stiles rubs his nose against Derek’s itchy cheek and kisses him again, deeply. “And I love you too, dumbass.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
